


Broken Promises, Broken Hearts

by reigningqueenofwords



Series: Winchester Losses [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 06:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21239738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reigningqueenofwords/pseuds/reigningqueenofwords





	Broken Promises, Broken Hearts

Your body lay next to John’s on the concrete ground, the boys watching over the two of you. Dean shook his head, licking his lips. “I hope this works.” He sighed.

Sam glanced at the two of you. “She’s the one who could pull him out. They’ll be fine.” He assured his brother.

* * *

_John had both hands on the wheel, his knuckles white from how hard he was gripping it. Tears stung his eyes, though they didn’t roll down his cheeks. His heart ached. His choice had a 50/50 chance of being the right one. If it wasn’t, he hoped that Lizzy grew up to be a strong woman, and that you moved on._

_Hearing sirens, he glanced in his rearview mirror, but ignored them. His car lit up with the red and blue of the lights that sat on top of the police cruiser. Seeing the bridge up ahead, he continued to do his best to move through traffic, praying that he didn’t kill anyone else in the process._

_His heart was pounding in his chest as he neared his end. Once he was ¼ over the bridge, he jerked the wheel to the right, closing his eyes. The metal gave way from the force of his massive truck. He felt himself falling towards the water, and he just hoped that things worked out._

* * *

John’s eyes slowly opened, looking around. Seeing you, his heart dropped. He’d promised you the future that the two of you had lost, and he knew that he couldn’t do that. “Hey, sweetheart.” He smiled softly at you.

“Glad you’re both okay.” Dean smiled, helping you up, while Sam helped up John.

“What the hell happened?” John asked, letting himself stand for a minute before trying to walk.

Sam sighed. “We’re Winchesters.” He shrugged. “They got lucky.”

He nodded. “Let’s just get out of this place.” His fingers laced with yours as the 4 of you walked back towards the exit.

* * *

The entire way back to the motel, John barely said a word. It hurt, but you didn’t push it. You’d let him deal with things however he wanted. He let out a sigh when he parked the truck. Before you got out, you stole a glance at him. He looked like he had something weighing him down, and it killed you.

The two of you had come so far in the 5 months since your loss. You supported and comforted each other. It still stung, but you had each other. Following him into the motel room, you watched as he went straight to the bathroom, shutting the door. Your heart sank further as you heard the shower start up. Did he just not want to be around you? Did he like his dream that much?

Sighing, you flopped back on your bed and closed your eyes. You simply stayed there, listening to the sounds of cars going by, the water of the shower, and the yelling you’d hear now and then. Finally, the shower was turned off. Opening your eyes, you sat up enough to lean on your elbows.

When the door opened, John walked out in just a towel, distracting you for a moment. “John?” You hoped that he’d at least talk to you if you tried.

“Yeah?” He asked gruffly, grabbing his clothes from his bag.

“What’s wrong? You’ve barely looked at me, you’ve barely spoken to me.” The hurt could be heard in your voice. “When we woke up, you smiled at me, and I thought that we’d do the same thing after every hunt. Did I do something wrong? Did you not want to leave?” You shifted to sit up.

John’s head dropped, closing his eyes. Without answering, he quickly pulled on his boxers and his shirt. He sat against the headboard, a sorrowful look on his face. “We need to talk, sweetheart.” There was a lump in your throat, dreading what was to come. “I told you, when we were ready…we’d have that future.” He started. “In my dream, we had a little girl, Lizzy. The boys were safe, had families.” You nodded, smiling softly at thinking of the boys as fathers. “When I woke up- it hit me.”

“What?” You breathed.

His dark eyes locked on yours, and you saw nothing but pain. “We can never have that, sweetheart.” He told you, his voice barely above a whisper. “We can’t have that future. We can’t have the house, and the kids. We can’t have family cookouts in the back yard. It’s not in our cards.” It killed him to have to say those things to you, to watch your heart break with every word. “I love you, so much. I can’t stand the thought of losing you, or worse, a kid.”

You felt a tear roll down your cheek. Wiping it, you sighed. “So, what we are is all we’ll ever be?” You asked. “We’ll never get married, never have a fucking pet, let alone a kid?” He was writing off anything more than simply being. Never striving for anything more.

John went to reach for your hand and you stood up. “Please, sweetheart.” He begged you to come back to the bed. “I’m doing this because it’s the best choice. The safest.”

“I get it.” You nodded. “I-I’m gonna go take my shower.” You told him, eyes on the ground. Turning around quickly, you walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

He sighed, worried that he’d pushed you away when he heard the lock click into place. You never locked the door, always leaving him the option to join you. That wouldn’t be happening that night.

Once you were stripped, you turned on the water to the right temp and got in. Sitting in the tub, you brought your knees up to your chest, your arms around your legs, and your forehead on your knees. Finally breaking, your shoulders shook with sobs. You hated Mary even more now. You’d never know what it was like to call him your husband. You’d never watch him with a child you’d created together. Your heart clenched, worried about what would have happened if you had still been pregnant and he went into that dream.

John heard you as he stared at the ceiling. He refused to sleep just yet, wanting to wait for you. Even if you were mad at him, he didn’t want to go to bed without reminding you how much you meant to him.

You stayed that way until the tub started to make you sore. Standing up, you quickly washed, your hand lingering on your lower stomach. You shook your head and cut the water off before grabbing a towel and wrapping it around yourself. Hair sticking to your shoulders, you walked out of the bathroom.

He looked over and sat up. “Sweetheart?” He sounded so afraid.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” You held back more tears. “I’m tired, I’m sore, and I have a lot to think about.” You told him, making John nod.


End file.
